


How Love Leaves You

by hellcsweetie



Category: Suits (US TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Not Canon Compliant, Takes place right after 7x13, because this didn’t actually happen but it’s not an au, mild spoilers regarding the events of the episode
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-07-20 03:02:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19984999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellcsweetie/pseuds/hellcsweetie
Summary: But we all know the story of how love leaves you; if you think back to when it last left. And if you’ve forgotten, let me remind you of how it was then. How love never really goes. How your heart breaks the same way that it beats, again and again, and again.— Lang Leav





	How Love Leaves You

_But we all know the story of how love leaves you; if you think back to when it last left. And if you’ve forgotten, let me remind you of how it was then. How love never really goes. How your heart breaks the same way that it beats, again and again, and again._

_— Lang Leav_

* * *

The paper gets shredded in front of her and, although he doesn’t take her offer to come inside, that fact alone is enough companionship for the night. He stood up for her - only after he caved, and after he drove her off, after he made her cry, and after he realized he’d be worse off without her, but she’ll take what she can get. 

The next day he’ll stop by her office and smile at her, say he’s happy she’s there. Her heart will flip and her cheeks will burn and she’ll promise herself that’s it. 

No more. 

She wants him in her life and that’s how he’ll have her, so the point has become moot. She’s done with everything else and will settle for colleagues, maybe even _friends_ , even though the thought makes her mouth sour. 

She’ll avoid initiating contact outside of work parameters and she’ll mostly succeed because she’s _focused_. She’ll make exceptions to ask about his niece’s recital and his father’s records because that’s different. It _means_ something. 

One day she’ll be wearing a new dress, interesting, attractive even, and she’ll pretend she doesn’t notice him staring. Again, focused. But she’ll also strut a little more when she walks. 

She’ll notice his calendar is still synched into her old computer when she goes to search for an old file and an alarm comes up for drinks at nine at a rooftop bar. She’ll decide to watch a nice movie with nice wine and she’ll only drink two glasses more than she usually does. 

She’ll try to go on a date again, despite the urge to vomit before, during and after. She’ll try to find him interesting. “I feel sorry for the guy who marries you,” Harvey told her once, back when that was still on the table, when marriage was a thought she could stomach. “Don’t,” she’d replied, “He’ll be the happiest man alive”.

She’ll give up on dating altogether. 

She’ll work hard and be great at her job and even Robert will come shake her hand when the quarter is done. 

She’ll reconnect with old friends and see her family more. She’ll be more assiduous in her yoga classes and enroll into one of those swanky spinning studios. She’ll eat less pizza. 

She’ll smile more and she’ll charm everyone, until “great” is well rehearsed and entrenched between her tongue and teeth, until it doesn’t feel like barbwire is being pulled out of her whenever she says it. 

She’ll convince herself, as much as she can, that those thoughts are in the past. “The feelings just go away eventually,” she’ll remember saying. 

She’ll repeat it to herself for breakfast and she’ll chant it to herself at night. She’ll make it feel comfortable and she’ll make herself trust it, even if she doesn’t necessarily believe it. 

She’ll touch him and ignore the tingles and she’ll suppress a smile whenever she sees him working late because maybe it means he has no one else to see. She’ll admonish herself for that thought. 

One day she’ll get the flash of his smile and it’ll only make her heart beat a tiny little bit faster. Or he’ll wink at her and she’ll manage to smile smartly and not too tightly. 

It’ll feel like she finally made it. 

She’ll feel accomplished. She’ll even leave earlier and buy herself a gift. This is _success_. 

She’ll feel it in her blood, in her bones. How the things he does will matter less and less, how it’ll all be appropriate. Friendly.

She’ll look at herself in a new light. She’ll see herself in the mirror and it’ll seem fresh, how all the cracks are still there but sealed, polished. She’ll seem whole. 

Her body will work in a new way. She’ll sleep better, she’ll laugh louder. Even her nails will be prettier. She’ll like her haircut and she’ll wear brighter clothes. Her skin will glow. 

If someone notices, calls her out on it, she’ll smile gracefully and thank them. “I’ve been taking better care of myself,” she’ll explain humbly. 

She’ll swallow it all. She’ll take it in stride. She’ll be compliant, complacent. She’ll work it so settling feels more like choosing. She’ll spin it so his decision feels more like theirs. It’ll work, all things considered. 

And so, after all of that, she’ll analyze her heartbeats and brainwaves and her inner workings and attest she is Over It. She’ll take a shower and wash all the love away, watch it go down the drain. It’ll stain her bathroom floor a little, like hair dye, but she’ll scrub it clean. She’ll dry herself thoroughly and make sure her pores are closed, so love doesn’t slip in again. 

She’s armored. 

It’s shiny and polished and cinched at the waist. 

She’ll feel invincible.

And then he’ll call her one night. Desperate. Something serious will have happened, something worth calling her for. She’ll rush to him, no questions asked, even though it’s four in the morning. The line will blur ‘till it’s barely visible. 

She’ll hold him close. She’ll feel her heart crack and break, piece by piece, like a dam, as love floods back in. She’ll sigh resignedly. 


End file.
